Icebreaker by Lian Tanner Read Free Book Online

Maybe he would be her friend, if she could just talk to him.
    At last the rats came to an agreement. Missus Slink was not entirely happy, but she seemed resigned. “Girl,” she said, before Mister Smoke could open his mouth. “Will you dig out those answers for us, if we get you close to the stranger?”
    Petrel nodded eagerly.
    Missus Slink’s claws tapped against the deck. “This is serious business, mind. There’s no telling anyone what we’re going to show you. Not even if they’ve got a knife to your throat. Not even if they’re dangling you over the side, and the Maw’s gazing up at you from below, all agape for a tasty meal.”
    Petrel gulped.
    Missus Slink turned away, saying, “Ha, she can’t do it.”
    â€œI can!” said Petrel quickly. “I— I’m used to keeping secrets, Missus Slink. My whole life’s a secret, and there’s no one else on board who can say that.”
    Mister Smoke chortled. “She’s got you there, Slink. She’ll do.” He scrambled up onto Petrel’s knee. “So, give us your promise, shipmate.”
    Petrel shut her eyes, and opened them again. “I promise. I won’t say anything to anyone. Ever.”
    â€œGood,” said Mister Smoke. “You is now an honorary rat, and a servant of the sleeping captain.”
    â€œTsk!” said Missus Slink. “We never agreed on that last bit.”
    â€œShe can’t be one without the other,” said Mister Smoke. Then he leaped down from Petrel’s knee, saying, “You come with us, shipmate.”
    As they made their way for’ard, they hardly saw a soul. It was just coming up to midnight, and any Engineers who weren’t working or asleep were sticking close to quarters in case of an attack. The whole ship felt jittery, the way it did when the weatherglass was dropping fast and the pipes rattled with storm warnings.
    â€œHow much farther, Mister Smoke?” asked Petrel.
    Mister Smoke nodded towards the for’ard store cabins. The door of the second one was ajar, and when Petrel put her head around it she saw a pile of driftwood and whale bones. They filled the cabin from deck to overhead, crammed so tight that she could barely see between them.
    â€œHow am I sposed to fit in there?”
    â€œMaybe you won’t,” sniffed Missus Slink.
    â€œHow far do I have to go?”
    â€œRight to the back,” said Mister Smoke. “There’s a cupboard.”
    He scrambled up onto the nearest bit of driftwood and launched himself into the pile. Missus Slink followed him, and the two rats disappeared. Petrel edged into the dark cabin after them.
    It was a tight fit, even for someone as scrawny as she was. She squeezed between the bits of wood and bone, crawling over the top of some of them and underneath others, and hissing whenever a bone-end jabbed her in the ribs. “Stupid thing, get out of my way!”
    At last, bruised and panting, she reached the far wall. She was right up high by then, on top of the pile, and she had to fumble downwards to find the cupboard. There it was—she could feel the top edge of the door. And there, all ragged fur and whiskers, was Mister Smoke.
    â€œYou won’t do any good up there, shipmate,” said the rat.
    Which meant that Petrel had to wriggle down, like a seal sliding off a rock, only not as graceful.
    The cupboard door was open far enough for her to squeeze through the gap. She twisted and squirmed until she was the right way up, then drew in a deep breath.
    â€œWhat now?” she asked, but she was talking to thin air. “Mister Smoke? Missus Slink? Where are you?”
    She heard the scrabble of claws, and Mister Smoke said, from somewhere in front of her nose, “Whatcha waitin’ for? Get a move on, shipmate.”
    â€œAll right, all right,” said Petrel, and she put her hands out and fumbled blindly towards him.
    There was a